[oh no. by the grin that pulls from Nimah's lips, Wriothesley has found their weakness: stupid jokes about their sight.

and really, they'd respond but it's better just responding to the press of his mouth, willing if not completely complacent. there's always something daring about it, echoed with the huff of laughter when Wriothesley speaks again.]

I'm always... nngh... quite wordy, if I'm not stopped. [at least, like this...] Flattery can be—honest too... haah, fuck...

[it's such a comfortable sensation, aching as pleasure mounts. they can only imagine how he's positioned, the way his back arches by the weight of him moving over their hips, and it's delicious in its own.] I'm glad you, think s—oh, fuck—

[it's both abrupt and not, the way they arch and jolt, drawing in close as their features tense and furrow in the wake of it.]